Hunted
by ExpectoPatron
Summary: Arvellon Antasia. That is what he had named her. She was an escaped Qunari Saarebas, and yet Duncan, the heroic Grey Warden, had taken her in without hesitation. When the Battle of Ostagar nearly wipes out all of the Grey Wardens, she must decide who, and what, exactly, she stands for: Her people, or herself?
1. Recruited

The faint breathing that was being released from my lungs was slowly fading into nothing as I ran as fast as I could through that tainted forest. I had been running for at least twelve hours, consistently, but I could not stop yet. Not until I crossed the border into Fereldan. Of course, I wouldn't be safe in the Blighted lands either, but my chances of surviving were significantly greater while I was far away from the Qunari.  
With my people plaguing my thoughts like a persistent disease, I hadn't realized I crossed the border until my weak lungs forced me to halt. My breath came in sharp, ragged huffs; a feeling you can only compare to death. If I didn't stop to breathe, I'd die from lack of oxygen, an unworthy death of a Qunari.  
Maker forbid and forgive me. I used magic to create a barrier around myself, that would block out any intruders by sending a wave of shock through their bodies when they came a little too close. You could never be too paranoid- especially when an army of Qunari were hunting you.  
I took this painful time to examine myself- look for wounds, all that. My corset was ripped in several places, from all the thorn bushes I plundered through, most likely. One of the tears revealed the Triumvirate branded into my hipbone. Instinctively, I swore under my breath at the sight of the thing. It was a symbol that represented the Qunari's ownership of you. All Saarebas receive them, since the Elders think we need an extra reminder that we're sworn to the Qun and if we pull anything even remotely sketchy, they're going to kill us without trial and without hesitation.  
A low growl escaped from my throat without my permission. If I could cut that Triumvirate branding off of my hipbone without screeching in pain, I would do it without a second thought. I know what you're thinking, but its more than just a tattoo. Its like the leash of a Mabari, but so much more than that.  
My eyes scanned over the rest of my grey body, and only then did I realize that unlike my brethren, my skin tone had a bluish tint to it. Strange. My pants, much like my corset, was torn and ragged, exposing a large variety of scars and burns. As I sat reminiscing the cause of each individual scar to calm me down and still gasping for breath, an elf approached.  
I was instantly on my defensive stance, ready to kill this pathetic creature if need be. Only then did I realize how much the Qunari had warped my mind, and at the time, I believed they were right about their views, just not in their motives. But something about the peculiar elf made me falter.  
"Who are you?" I asked bluntly, earning a confused expression from the intruder. It was probably because of my heavy Qunari accent- I wouldn't had been surprised if he didn't understand me.  
"I... I'm Fenarel. What's a Qunari doing here? This is Dalish territory, you know." he said uneasily.  
I never had any experience with people outside of the Qun, so I had no idea how to speak to this man without offending or provoking him to try and kill me. Though he did not have his weapon drawn, I could tell he was feigning to unsheathe it. "I do not know." I said simply, thoroughly ashamed of myself. This is why I did not belong with the Qun. I was less than perfect at everything, and inexperienced with everything but how to cast a spell. That is not the way of the Qun. I was pathetic.  
"You don't know what? What you're doing here, or that this is Dalish territory?" he retorted gently. Why was this creature being so soft with me? Nobody had ever used a tone so gentle with a Saarebas.  
I shifted uncomfortably. I wanted more than anything for him to stop asking questions I couldn't answer with a straight response. "Both."  
"Maybe... Maybe we can help you. You're not a shemlen, and you seem genuine... Bah! I don't know. I'll go get the Keeper. Wait here, if you will." At that, he departed, leaving me to ponder whether I should stay or go.  
Antaam had always told me never to trust outsiders, so naturally, I was sketchy about the whole ordeal. But this could have been my only chance at surviving. I'd been told that elves are generally better than humans, but to me, they were all the same. Hideous, untrustworthy, pathetic little beings, just festering around with no goal and no motivation.  
Before I had time to start running again, the elf returned with a very old woman accompanying him.  
"Please, take down your barrier. We do not wish to hurt you." said the woman.  
All of this was too strange. First, a clammy elf approaches me without fear and uses a gentle tone with me. A mage. A _Qunari_ mage, nonetheless. Second, he offers me help. Antaam told me the Dalish did not welcome outsiders, and would sooner shove a sword through your gullet than offer you assistance. Third, this woman... this Keeper... tells me to put down my barrier.  
No. I did not trust it. "I will not." I stated.  
She heaved a sigh. "Very well, creature. I am Marethari, the Keeper of this clan of Dalish. I would first ask how you ended up here and what your intentions are."  
"I will tell you nothing except that I am not here to harm you or your clan, nor did I know this was where you resided." I responded as calmly as I could.  
"Fair enough, I suppose. Come with me, please." Though it was an order, she made it seem like a mere question. Naturally, it intrigued me, and I foolishly followed her to their camp, my barrier still going strong.  
With Fenarel and Marethari in front of me, we passed through the clan step by step. Some of the other elves had expressions of shock implanted on their faces, others threatened, others terrified (as they should be). I did my best to ignore them. Eventually, we reached a tent, where Marethari instructed her clan member to leave us.  
"You are of the Qunari?" she asked.  
I could tell her that much, I supposed. "Yes."  
"Are you a Vashoth?" she further inquired.  
A curious woman. Dangerously curious. But it was only when she asked that question did I realize what I really was. The Qun now saw me as a pathetic verminous outcast, destined to die for her "treachery". I knew my life as a Qunari was over when that fact did not phase me in the slightest.  
"Yes." I answered.  
She bowed her head slightly, to acknowledge my answer while she pondered this thought. "By choice?" she continued, after a long silent moment filled with a lingering intensity.  
"Yes." I replied once more.  
"You are very brave, creature. Very brave indeed. I may have someone who can protect you from your former brethren, but he has yet to arrive." Her eyes held knowledge as her tone held experience. Intriguing, at the very least.  
My gut told me this was not a trap. Besides, how could the Qun send word to the Fereldan elves so quickly? I supposed I wouldn't be able to survive anyhow, so it was worth a shot. Reluctantly and slowly, I disposed of the electric barrier guarding me, and abandoned my fighting stance.  
"Why do you help me?" I asked, unable to resist.  
I thought she would be offended by the abruptness, but she was not. "I know how strict your people are. I know what they do to mages like you. The Creators would smile on me if I helped you."  
My defense returned. "You pity me?" I spat, suddenly deeply offended.  
She remained calm and did not flinch. "No. I understand." Her lips curled into a surprisingly comforting smile.  
"Who... is this man?" I said uneasily. I had no desire to discuss the Qun any longer, so if this woman was as wise as she seemed, she would understand and not question me about it further. I could only hope she'd be honest with me.  
"He is a Grey Warden, defeaters of the Blight. I'm sure you've heard of them, yes?"  
My brain started to hurt as I dug through my memories of Antaam's lessons. _Grey Warden... Grey Warden..._ Ah. "Yes." Now, why was she suggesting this man to guard me?  
"His name is Duncan. His order has three treaties- with the dwarves, Dalish elves, and humans. He can use these treaties to demand recruits if a Blight is to occur."  
"So you want me to become a Grey Warden?" I said skeptically, cocking an eyebrow. I chose to ignore her last statement about an upcoming Blight.  
"If you do not, he will ask for one of my clan. This clan is my family, and I would not want to see any of them leaving. Please, creature, help us." Her plead almost made me scowl at how desperate she looked.  
Alas, Qunari are not Grey Wardens. There had never been a Grey Warden Qunari, so the chances of this Duncan fellow accepting me were low anyway. And if he did accept me, I supposed it would've been an honorable profession. Antaam said the Wardens were victorious heroes. But the fact that this could all be a trap didn't leave my mind.  
"I will help you." I answered after a silent moment.  
"Thank the Creators. And thank you, creature. Tell me, do you have a name?"  
It seemed like this woman's intelligence only went skin-deep. If she knew as much about the Qun as I assumed she did upon first meeting her, she would know we do not receive names. Well, we do, but they're given to us by our parents, and we're taken away from them at birth. So, we never actually hear our name. But the Elders know our personal names to keep track of breeding, though they never tell us our name.  
"Saarebas." I replied quietly. Uncertainly.  
I remembered faintly the time where I was an Arvaarad at just five years old. The Arishok had given me the two daggers I had secured onto my belt, the daggers being named "Akun", meaning "balance" in Qunlat, and "Katara", meaning "die" in Qunlat. They were the only thing, besides the pesty tattoo on my hipbone, I had left of my origin. Thankfully, they let me keep the daggers once I became a Saarebas.  
"That is your title, not your name. Do you truly not have one?" said the Keeper.  
I shook my head. If I had a name, it was long lost and stained in the Qunari records book.  
The woman before me heaved a quiet sigh. "Very well. We will call you Saarebas for the time being. Duncan should be arriving tomorrow. I will get my First to take you to a tent and allow you rest. I doubt it was a comfortable journey you had coming here."  
I remained silent as she departed to catch her First. This woman was being suspiciously kind to me. Or maybe I was just paranoid. But risks cannot be taken when you're a Vashoth. Keeper Marethari returned in seconds, only this time, accompanied by another elf with black hair and big eyes.  
"Aneth'ara. I'm Merrill. Come with me, please." she said in a pixie-like voice.  
Hesitantly, I followed her into another vacant tent that housed three bed rolls and knapsacks full of food and other necessities.  
"You know, we've never actually saw a female Qunari before. Your people are easy on the eye, though. I've always wanted to meet a Qunari." Merrill said nervously.  
What did she take me for? My people were certainly not easy on the eye, and nobody would want to meet one of us. This woman was either very foolhardy or just a pureblood idiot. Either way, at least she wasn't giving me the evil eye like so many others of her clan. After bidding her farewell as quickly as I could, I fell into a deep slumber almost instantly. The sleep was filled with nightmares of the Arishok sentencing me to death, being caught by my brethren, everything that I was running from. Alas, I woke up the following morning almost fully rested, but my body ached all over from how much I had ran the previous day.  
With stiff muscles and a pounding migraine, I groggily stood up. Judging by the way strands of white hair clouded my eyesight, it was time to redo my hair. Quickly as you please, I redid the French braid my hair usually possessed. It fell in long white tresses past my waist in waves that could make the ocean envious. It got annoying, really, but the women of the Qun were not permitted to cut their hair, claiming it suppresses their beauty.  
Once I walked outside of my tent, I was instantly greeted by the elf from yesterday, Merrill, and the Keeper. They both had small smiles on their lips that made me nervous on three different levels. Marethari motioned for me to follow, and I obliged.  
Eventually, we found our way to a small opening where a human with jet black hair pulled back in a tie resided. His eyes were the color of water, a rather gorgeous color that appealed to me. But it wasn't his eyes that grabbed my attention. It was his stature. Unlike any human I have seen, he held himself proudly. Honorably. Usually humans cower at the sight of a Qunari.  
"This is Saarebas, Duncan. She is the recruit we offer you." informed the Keeper.  
"And here I thought you were bluffing," the man chuckled. "Greetings, Qunari. I am Duncan." He held his hand out to me.  
I stared at his hand, not knowing what to do with it. I cocked my head to the side and peered up at him. He laughed merrily and withdrew his hand, earning a raised eyebrow from me. "My apologies," he said.  
"I am Saarebas." I replied conspicuously.  
"Would you have us name you?" he asked kindly.  
Humans were strange to me on so many levels. "You need not." I retorted, doing my best not to offend.  
"Ah, very well," he said. "Let us go, then. We have much to do. Farewell, Keeper. May the Maker watch over you."  
We didn't exchange any more pleasantries as we left the Dalish camp. Surprisingly, the Keeper, Merrill, and Fenarel, bid me farewell, but the others still looked at me with that same disgusted scowl. I kept my head down, but my eyes open. Everything around me remained a threat, and I was still more than paranoid.  
If becoming a Grey Warden was really my fate, so shall it be.


	2. Arvellon Antasia

**Need to make this clear before someone stops reading because right now, its basically retelling the story. Right now. It'll follow the Origins storyline for about the next three chapters or so, then it'll stray into a different story.** **Thank you for reading. **

After three days of travelling, my bones aching violently, begging me to stop moving, we reached the old ruins of Ostagar. I grew to respect Duncan and his cause, something that is not easy to earn. He was proficient in battle and an honest man; I would never expect that from a human. Who knew there was an entire world out there apart from Par Vollen?  
Duncan had taught me how to "shake hands", which is supposedly a polite gesture exchanged to show you mean well. More evidence that humans were strange. There seemed to be a lot of touching involved, which did not appeal to me in the slightest. My curiosity only grew with every question answered.  
Apparently, I was to go through a ritual of sorts that Duncan called "The Joining". He wouldn't tell me what the ritual consisted of, however. He seemed to be confident in me, though. On our way to Ostagar, we encountered plenty of Darkspawn- monstrous, filthy, bloodthirsty creatures that will stop at nothing to kill you.  
They did not intimidate me. I managed to run through them like a tornado being unleashed on the world, as is expected of a Qunari member. The Arishok would have been proud, had I not ran away from the Qun and betrayed them. Why Duncan was involving himself in someone like me, I did not know. But I made sure it was clear that harboring me could result in conflict with my people. This did not phase him.  
He was either the bravest man I had ever met, or the biggest fool.  
"If we encounter the King here, just bow and address him as 'Your Majesty'." explained Duncan upon arriving at Ostagar.  
I nodded, hoping we would not see the King. Knowing myself well, I'd screw up and treat him like I would any other nobody. Thankfully, we did not encounter the King on our way to Duncan's camp. Upon arriving, he turned around to face me with an expression of concern on his features. Nobody had ever looked at me with genuine concern. This was becoming too much for me to take in.  
"I apologize for my curiosity. I understand that you wouldn't want to talk about it, but I need to know. Why did you run from the Qun?" he asked.  
I had to suppress the urge to spin on my heel and run away from him. My mind just wasn't what it used to be. "They chain their mages up like animals. Shackles, leash, muzzle, the complete set. I have... always been a bit strange to my people. I would not be surprised if the Arishok saw this coming," _Stop talking, Saarebas. Now. You're telling him too much._ "I guess, when you start out with freedom- well, as free as it gets in the Qun -and then you're abruptly in chains... It's just... I can't... I can't."  
I felt the water brimming on my eyes. _Don't cry, you pathetic weakling,_ I thought. _Haven't you dishonored your people enough?_ I squinted my eyes shut and furrowed my eyebrows to halt the tears threatening to spill. My head slowly drooped in a depressing fashion.  
"Arvellon. Arvellon Antasia. That is your name." said Duncan, graciously not addressing my show of weakness.  
I peered up at him, pure surprise on my features. "I-"  
"You're not part of the Qun anymore. You are a free Grey Warden. Remember that, Arvellon. Always."  
_Arvellon Antasia... Arvellon... Free. Grey Warden._ That's what I was. That's _who_ I was. The name "Arvellon" fit me like a pair of shoes, gluing itself to me instantly. Something about it just seemed... me. Not Qunari, or mage, or rogue, just me. "Is there some significance to the name?" I asked.  
"Arvellon means 'free'. Antasia was my mother's name. You... remind me of her. In more ways than one." He motioned for me to follow him, so I did. He led me to his personal tent, away from all the bustling of the other soldiers and Grey Wardens.  
"How so?" I inquired, my curiosity getting the best of me.  
"The way you move when you're in battle. Its like you're... dancing. My mother had the same aura. I remember her teaching me how to use a sword when I was just a lad," he released a sad laugh. "Had no idea what I was doing. She was a natural. Like you. And she had a fire in her heart that nothing could distinguish. She was unbreakable."  
This man barely knew me, yet somehow managed to capture my frequencies just as easily. Duncan was undoubtedly basalit'an. I remained silent, not knowing how to comfort a human.  
"What about your mother? If you don't mind telling me." he said after a long moment of silence.  
"The Qunari do not have families," I quoted. "Our co-workers are our family. We are taken from our mothers at birth to donate our part to the Qun society."  
"No wonder you left..." mumbled Duncan.  
I couldn't help myself. I actually laughed. The "being taken from mother at birth" thing was the least cruel thing about the Qun.  
"Just know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here," said Duncan quietly after chuckling himself. "Once you settle in, I would like you to find Alistair, your fellow Grey Warden. He will answer any questions you have about the preparation for the Joining. I do apologize, but I must see to King Cailan's plan for the upcoming battle."  
I gave him a curt nod as he departed, praying that this Alistair wasn't as prejudice as the others at that damnable place. I hastened to exit the tent, and as soon as I stepped out, I was greeted by a thousand dirty looks. I gulped and put my head down, trying to simulate my thoughts. I found myself digging my nails into my palms to distract myself from the humans glaring daggers at me. After a few minutes of that, my palms were bleeding from how deep I had dug.  
My adam's apple bobbed up and down as I gulped once more. I continued my way down the path, feeling like a prisoner making her way down the walk of shame. Only when I reached the end of the path did I realize I had no idea where Alistair was. Fantastic. I walked over to a random man and shifted uncomfortably.  
"I am seeking Alistair." I said, averting my eyes.  
"Up those stairs, then go right." replied the soldier, not bothering to suppress the loathing in his tone. As I walked away, I heard him mutter under his breath, "Qunari scum. How the hell did she make it here?"  
I did my best to ignore that statement as I followed the man's instructions. Truth be told, I had my doubts that it was accurate. Maybe he just directed me to the torture room. But thankfully, he was honest. A red-headed human was standing with his back leaned against a pillar, his arms crossed and looking tired. I almost felt bad for interrupting his thoughts.  
_Be careful, Saar-... Arvellon. You have one shot at coming across as an ally to this man. Don't sod it up._ "Hello," I said uneasily, doing my best not to look nervous. "I... I apologize. I'm sorry," _You're panicking. Keep your cool._ I sighed and attempted to start over, as he cocked an amused eyebrow. "I am... Arvellon. Are you Alistair?"  
"No need to be nervous. I'm nobody important," he said, straightening himself up and extending his hand. I glanced down at it for a moment before remembering that he was offering a polite way of greeting. Shaking hands, Duncan called it. I grasped the man's hand and he shook it slightly before withdrawing. "I'm Alistair, yes. Are you the new recruit? You're popular around here."  
_Popular around here, and not in a good way,_ I added to myself. Sod it. Time to man up. "Most likely. Not often you recruit an escaped Qunari convict." The words spilled out of my mouth freely, and it felt satisfying. Not giving nerves any attention helped a lot.  
He laughed. "Too true. I admit, I expected you to look like a drooling ogre. No offense."  
I grinned. "I'm certain I exceed your expectations."  
For some reason, his laugh comforted me. It let me know I was doing it right. "Not at all. I also expected you to be stuck-up and serious all the time. I really need to work on my judgment. Anyway, I'm supposed to be accompanying you during the Joining."  
Typical expectations of a Qunari. Like I said, I was always strange to my people. I kept my mouth shut, waiting for Alistair to say something else.  
He knitted his eyebrows together. "You don't talk much, do you?"  
I forced myself to politely smile. "I apologize."  
"No need. So, er..." He rocked back and forth on his heels, then jerked his head to the side. "We should go."  
I nodded and followed closely behind him as he led us through Ostagar. At least I don't have horns. That would've made it ten times more awkward than it already was to be around so many humans. I studied Alistair as he communicated with the other humans, examined his body language, the way he waved and said hello to his comrades. If I could just catch on, I wouldn't look like such a fool whenever I had to ask someone what to do.  
One thing that nearly disgusted me about these peculiar creatures was the way they walked. In the Qun, you hold yourself proudly and straight or you do not hold yourself at all. These humans often walked with their shoulders slumped, and the females actually swayed their hips a little. It was fascinating and repulsing at the same time.  
Walking like a human was one thing I was not willingly going to do. I kept my neck long and my shoulders down, like a traditional female Qunari. The males whistled at me, then turned to each other and gossiped among themselves. "Ignore them." Alistair muttered to me.  
I nodded just to let him know I heard him. I couldn't help but take note of how Alistair stood slightly in front of me with his shoulders squared, as if he was a personal bodyguard. He scolded or glared at the men who whistled at me and at the people giving me dirty looks, which I did not appreciate. At the time, anyway.  
It was embarrassing to have a man defending me. I'm sure you understand that in the Qun, we must learn to fight our own battles and fix our own problems without the assistance of others. If you seek aid from someone else, it is considered dishonorable. But since I had just met Alistair and did not fancy coming across as a snob, I did not comment.  
The humans were not giving me a good first impression, not that they actually cared what a Vashoth thought of them. I more so tolerated them rather than liked them. Alistair and I approached Duncan's camp, ready to go, after about ten minutes of walking.  
Two other human men were standing at the camp, impatiently waiting. The red-headed warrior was giving me the evil eye, refusing to take his eyes off of me for fear that I would snap and go bat shit on everyone around me. The brunette rogue was staring at me hungrily, as if he'd never seen a woman before. He licked his lips, and I quickly turned him down by smacking the back of his head lightly.  
Duncan sighed. "I hope you all found everything okay. You will be going into the Korcari Wilds, in search of three vials of Darkspawn blood. Alistair, you are to retrieve the treaties and take care of your charges, as planned. Questions?"  
I had plenty of questions, but chose not to ask them. I decided to figure it out as we went. Duncan had said the Joining was to be completed by morning, and then we would have five days to prepare for the upcoming battle. He had needed to say he couldn't speak of the ritual only once to me.  
"So, you're a Qunari, eh?" said the unknown warrior as we headed towards the Korcari Wilds, with Alistair leading.  
I nodded with my head held high.  
"Isn't your people all about 'stab, stab, kill, sacrifice goats to the Dark lord'?" he asked.  
It took all of my willpower not to bust out laughing at this creature's foolishness. How little the outsiders knew of the Qun, I thought. Politely, I replied to his folly, "No." And that was all I felt he was obliged to know.  
I could feel his eyebrow cocking, but did not turn to look. Eventually, after exchanging pleasantries with the guard, we reached the Wilds, ready for whatever came at us.


	3. The Joining

The survival skills the Qun had taught me finally served their purpose for once. The Wilds had many turns and paths, making it nearly impossible to know where we were going. The Qun had taught their people how to navigate a maze- and the technique was rather stupid in my eyes. So, being a Saarebas, I had learned a spell instead. After passing the same opening for the sixth time in a row, I offered my assistance, which Alistair gladly accepted. I would have much preferred not to use my powers, due to the price I paid whenever I _did_ use them, but I was sick of wasting time. I stepped forward from our group and took a deep breath. This would render me weak, but still capable of handling myself, at least. I allowed my magicka to surge through my veins, envelope my mind in a heap of power. Emitting from my hands came a trail of blue mist that led itself, directing us to our destination- where the treaties were. Once the spell completed itself, it left behind a trail of lyrium to direct us further. I heaved an exasperated sigh, successfully weakened from the use of magic. The reason it tended to weaken me whenever I used it was because I never used it unless I absolutely had to, which was not often. It made my body an alien to the magic, so every time I used my powers, my body screamed in protest. I stumbled backwards, nearly falling if it wasn't for Alistair. He extended his arm to break my fall, then helped me steady myself. "What was that all about? You never mentioned you were a mage." he said. "You did not ask." I replied simply. "Cheap shot," he accused. "Judging by the blades rather than the staff, I take it you avoid using your powers?" "Somewhat." I lied. The truth would have been a simple 'yes', but I did not trust Alistair enough at the time to share that kind of thing with him. For mages, using magic is... intimate. Its personal, and hard to explain. With that simple fact already on the table along with only just meeting Alistair, his chances of getting the truth out of me were slim. "Right." he said slowly and suspiciously. I kept my poker face. "We should move on, yes?" "Oh- yes, yes we should." he replied. He continued to lead us through the maze of a forest, following the trail of lyrium my spell had left behind. The first group of darkspawn we ran into was a band of what I recognized as hurlocks. I remembered faintly how Duncan had described them, "_They're tall, ugly, and they stink. Really bad. That doesn't really specify them from other darkspawn, but... You get the point_." I charged in, choosing Alistair as my battle partner. Back to back, we slashed our blades at the hurlocks. They were admittedly slow, which gave me the upper hand. I used both of my blades to initiate a power attack on one of them, causing it to drop dead instantly. Now that my target was dead, I spun on my heel to assist Alistair, but could not find him. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, then glanced around, looking for him. My eyes landed on his body laying on the ground, pinned down by the enemy. I marched over to the struggling figures and stepped over the hurlock and Alistair, not having any patience for this. I gripped its forehead, jerked its head back, and slit its throat in one smooth, fluid motion. It released a bloodcurdling screech as death greeted the repulsing creature with open arms. I threw the body aside and offered a helping hand to Alistair, who took it and hoisted himself up. "Thanks." he said, breathing a sigh of relief and shaking his head to clear it. Thankfully, the other two men accompanying us had finished off the other two hurlocks, leaving us without enemies. For the moment, anyway. Once Alistair had recovered from his debacle with the hurlock, he bent down and collected the three vials of darkspawn blood. I sheathed my daggers and followed closely behind him when he started to lead us down the path once more. We encountered plenty more darkspawn, along with a few wolves. I had already had my fair share of darkspawn to last me a life time. Like a good girl, I did not complain, however. The rogue of the party ordered us to halt some time later, stepping forward. "Trap." he explained, bending down to disarm the tripwire. "Why didn't you do that with the past six traps?" Alistair groaned, reminiscing how he had fallen prey to all six of those traps. "Its funny to watch you walk right into them." the rogue replied, suppressing his laughter. "Daveth. I'll remember that name as I rip the heads off of darkspawn with my bare hands." Alistair retorted. I wasn't sure if Alistair was joking or not, but I had learned a name, at least. My glance traveled between Alistair and Daveth, wondering if they were done bickering or not. "Weren't you a Chantry brother?" argued Daveth. "How'd you get into the Chantry with that tongue of yours? No sex jokes, if you mind." Alistair sighed. "Let's just move on. We still need those treaties." The red-headed warrior and I exchanged a perplexed glance, then followed behind the two men who had just conjured up an immature argument. After about another hour of traveling, we reached an old ruin Alistair identified as the temple where the treaties would be. He glanced around until he found what he was looking for- an orange chest, smashed and beaten, and most notably, empty. "But they were supposed to be here. Right?" he said quietly, pulling out the map Duncan had given him. He scanned his eyes over it, coming to a conclusion. "Right! Duncan wouldn't-" "I can explain that." a feminine voice announced from behind us. The four of us spun on our heels simultaneously, drawing our weapons. A thin woman with black hair and heavy make-up stood with her arms crossed, looking cold. "A witch!" Daveth hissed. The woman released a humorless laugh. "Perhaps. You've come for the treaties, yes?" Alistair stepped in front of us, sheathing his sword and nodding. "We'll get to that in a moment. Right now, I'm interested in the Qunari woman there." She glanced towards me with a smirk on her face. I attempted to step forward, but Alistair held his arm out to stop me. I peered up at him with a questioning look etched into my features, which he graciously ignored. "We don't have time. Where are the treaties?" he inquired. "Oh, you city dwellers are so impolite. I didn't even get an introduction. I would first know your names before assisting you." the witch said, a scolding look on her face that I thought only mothers could make successful. Alistair rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm Alistair, this is Arvellon, that's Daveth, and that's Ser Jory. Now, can you tell us where the treaties are?" "And I am Morrigan," she replied, smirking. "'Twas my mother who took them." "Your mother... Your mother?" Alistair exclaimed, his voice cracking on the last word. If it was possible for someone to look so surprised they were going to explode, then that summed up Alistair's expression. I zoned out of their bickering unintentionally, and my mind wandered to theories of what the Arishok would do if he saw me now. Perhaps give me that signature frown of his before putting my head on a pike? No, he wouldn't waste me like that. Maybe send me to the Arigena to be reeducated and put back on a leash? That was more evitable. Morrigan and Alistair had come to a compromise by the time my thoughts returned to their banter. The witch would take us to her mother to retrieve the treaties straight from the source. I remained a neutral party, not stepping out of my comfort zone to voice my opinion. Truthfully, I thought it was rather foolish to trust a Bas Saarebas just like that, but Alistair seemed to know what he was doing. Alright, that was a lie. The man struck me as the type to just go along with everything and occasionally draw his blade, nothing more. Luck smiled at us. The witch did not lie to us, and she took us to her mother like she said. However, her mother was not what I expected. She seemed like more of a harmless old woman than someone capable of stealing something as valuable as Grey Warden treaties, but what did I know? I had to admit, I was impressed. I was under the impression that when humans become old and withered, they merely sat around like fat dathrasi and drank tea, occasionally complaining about a stain on their bed sheets. I was very wrong about Morrigan's mother. "Here are your treaties, Warden," the elder said, extending her arm to hand the treaties to Alistair. "Might I give a word of advice to your Qunari friend?" She didn't wait for an answer before stepping towards me and studying my expression, as if deciding something. "You're running from your people, are you not? Remember this: Hurl into the chaos, you fight, and the world will shake before you." Something told me she had used that line before, but I didn't question it. Had I known what she meant at the time, I would've taken her seriously, and wouldn't had even considered doing what I did months later. I had no interest in questioning human riddles, however, so I remained silent and impassive. The elder did not pry; she merely gave me a knowing smirk and backed away. "You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." she muttered, more to herself than to us. Morrigan cleared her throat, announcing her presence, before any of us could retort. "You have what you came here for. I believe 'tis time for you to go." "Where are your manners, Morrigan?" the older woman asked, smiling mockingly. "These are your guests!" Morrigan heaved an irritated sigh. "Very well, mother. I'll lead you out of the woods. Follow me." She replaced Alistair as the leader, and guided us out of the Wilds. I considered us lucky, since she knew where she was going, whereas we did not. It took us only fifteen minutes to get back to Ostagar, where Morrigan departed and left us on our own. "She was... characteristic." Ser Jory observed as we walked back to Duncan's camp. Duncan looked at us expectantly when we arrived. Alistair reached into his pack and pulled out the vials of Darkspawn blood and the treaties, then we proceeded with the ritual. I figured the reason Alistair didn't tell Duncan about the apostates was because he didn't want to add to Duncan's stress, but I never did find out the truth about that. So, there we stood, at the same temple I first met Alistair at. Admittedly, I was nervous about the ritual, but I didn't show it. I was not only of the Qun, but also a woman, so it was vital for me to not show any hint of weakness, lest I lose what little respect I had from the men. Duncan made it very clear that we may not survive the ritual, which caused Ser Jory to hesitate. Daveth was first up. Duncan poured the vial of blood into the cup, then handed it to the rogue. I admired Daveth's courage- something I could not say for Jory, who was biting his nails and seemed to be about to pass out from nerves. Hesitantly, Daveth took the cup in both of his hands, and downed the blood as if it were water. I squinted my eyes shut, not wanting to see what was to come. Unfortunately, my other senses kicked in, forbidding me from blocking out a horrifying scene. I heard him whimper in pain, smelled the taint emitting from his steady weakening body, felt the vibrations that came from his body falling with a thud. Confirming my mortifying suspicions, Duncan said very softly, "I am sorry, Daveth." I opened one eye, then two. Duncan had a sorrowful expression on his face as he poured the next vial of blood into the cup. Alistair had the most worried expression I had ever seen embedded into his soft features, making the mighty warrior vulnerable. I saw Jory's larynx bob up and down as he gulped in fear, already theorizing about how he would get out of this. _Coward_, I thought. Jory started to slowly back away the further Duncan inched towards him. "No... Y-You can't ask me to do this. I have a wife! A child on the way... Please..." the younger warrior pleaded. Something told me Duncan had performed this ritual with a lot of the Grey Wardens here. I figured he would've been used to seeing people die during the ritual, but everything from his sorrow-filled expression to his apologetic stature said otherwise. This man was old and worldly; he had seen death more than any average person could even imagine being able to bear. And yet he still was not used to it. I felt a rush of respect for Duncan, even as he unsheathed his sword and dueled Jory, who had drawn his blade right before Duncan did. The duel was short and bloody, and did not end well. Duncan thrust his sword through Jory's gullet, saying in that same apologetic voice he used with Daveth, "I am sorry." I flinched slightly at the sound of another body falling to the ground lifelessly, but held my head high when Duncan approached me with the cup of Darkspawn blood. My vibrant red eyes met the wise blue orbs of Duncan's, who gave me an encouraging nod. Without further hesitation, I took the cup from his hands. I stared at its dark red contents for a moment before bringing it to my lips and downing it in one gulp. The taste was not only disgusting, but excruciatingly painful. I could feel the blood rushing down my windpipe and into my veins, molding itself into my own blood forcibly, becoming a part of me. I cringed in pain as my throat burned viciously and my bones screamed in protest, cursing me for drinking something so vile. The pain came to an abrupt halt- physically -and my mind was replaced with some sort of vision. A countless amount of Darkspawn was gathered together, growling hungrily and very clearly aching for a battle. The vision traveled upwards, passing levels and levels of Darkspawn, until it reached a gruesome dragon perched upon a blood-stained bridge. It roared viciously, exhaling a hurl of blue fire. This seemed to be the rallying cry for its minions, for there was a deafening roar emitting from the Darkspawn below, and from behind the dragon, I could see them marching outwards. And then it was over. My eyelids fluttered open hesitantly, meeting the faces of Alistair and Duncan. I squinted to make sure I was seeing right. My vision had not failed me. Duncan extended a hand, and I almost thought he was trying to shake my hand in the human greeting way again, but it was merely to help me up. Hesitantly, I grasped it and hoisted myself up. "How do you feel?" Alistair asked, concern dripping in his tone. I allowed myself to drink in what I was feeling. Bones: Aching. Blood: Boiling. Head: Pounding. "I'm fine." I lied. I was not going to hold my honor cheaply. "Did you have dreams?" he questioned. "Did you?" I asked. He nodded, cocking an eyebrow almost in confusion. "Good. Then I'm not going crazy." I mumbled. Alistair chuckled, then opened his mouth to say something, but Duncan intercepted him. "I'm glad at least one of you made it. You deserve some rest. Breakfast will be held in the morning at eight A.M., and I'll announce the celebration then. I'll send someone to get you. Alistair, show her to the living quarters, please." Alistair clapped a hand on my shoulder, then led me towards the quarters. "Celebration?" I prodded once we were out of Duncan's earshot. He smirked. "We always have some kind of party before a battle. Hope you can handle your alcohol." I knitted my eyebrows together. Drinking is generally not condoned in the Qun, but I remembered sneaking out at night with my Arvaraad just to let loose every once in a while. He'd supply the alcohol, I'd supply the cards for Wicked Grace, and we'd gamble the night away. Such freedom is not allowed in the Qun, but the Arvaraad and I didn't deem ourselves above these things. I knew how to get drunk without throwing up and having a hangover the next day- that wasn't the problem. But not being able to have control over your words around hundreds of men? Terrifying. "I thought Wardens were supposed to be uptight heroes." I said. "Nope," Alistair replied with a chuckle. "It's not always serious. We can have harmless fun sometimes." Once we reached the living quarters, Alistair bid me farewell and left me to myself. The room was simple and small, yet cozy. A bed was placed in the corner, and a dresser on the opposite side, but that was all I needed. I rummaged through the dresser until I found the female clothes, which were undoubtedly made for human females with a manly stature. I crawled into the creaky bed after changing into a baggy t-shirt, welcoming sleep.


End file.
